


Tongue wagging

by orphan_account



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Assassin's Creed III Multiplayer characters, Been playing too much deathmatch, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/F, Fingering, Oral, Outdoor Sex, coarse language, femmeslash, first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 21:05:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t have to talk, you know… I can read your body like a book.” Gillian informed, taking her knee off Eleanor’s back as she moved to straddle the younger’s thighs. “Would you like to know what its saying? <i>Of course, you do.</i> It’s begging for my tongue.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tongue wagging

The bricks were cold against her back, but Eleanor daren’t move from her spot, plastered against the edge of the alleyway. Not when that redskin was after her… what was his name; the Silent Shadow? It was laughable to think that a man such as he would have a name such as that. At least, Eleanor thought so. The first time Eleanor had been made privy to him was when she was told of the man by her mates. They had been grave and discreet, peering over their shoulders as they spoke. Even then, even with the secrecy, she thought they were taking the piss. 

After all this man was said to be preposterously tall, broad-shouldered, and worryingly strapping with an almost clean-shaven head and a face-full of war-paint so red that it could have as well been blood. Eleanor was sure that a man with a description such as that could never be inconspicuous. From what she had heard, he towered over a vast majority of folk. How can a man who is head-and-shoulders taller than the average man get the jump on anyone? 

Today, the Mohawk lived up to his title today, that was for sure. The redcoat had seen him murder four contracts in a row without being detected by any of them. She was absolutely astonished that she hadn’t yet gotten caught. Even Eleanor had to admit that her hiding spot was not the best. She had been sitting between two nattering women sharing wives-tales; looking for all the world like a sore-thumb, outfitted in her opulent red-and-white military effects whilst the women she sat amongst were dressed in their simple, earth-toned frocks. 

Eleanor trembled like a leaf despite all her attempts to steel her nerves. Her heart began to race as she watched the gargantuan warrior disappear into the ground as if he were naught but a shade—a shadow; casting gloom and fear into the hearts of all who opposed. 

As soon as he was out of sight, Eleanor bolted.

She tore through the streets, through the crowds, through the opened windows and houses until she found a discreet enough place to rest; nestled away in a dimly-lit backstreet between two homes. Eleanor panted and sweated liberally, listening out for footsteps as she kept her head on a swivel.

Scanning the shingled rooftops and peering down the length of the passageway for any wayward would-be attackers, the redcoat tried to breathe easy when after a few long moments, no one appeared.

The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach hadn’t yet passed, but Eleanor forced herself to relax. Pushing off the wall, the redcoat made to exit the alleyway…

—only to be surprised by a hand gripping her by the scruff of her neck and reeling her back. The wind left her lungs as she was forced back against the unyielding brick wall by a lithe body pressed against hers’. “Why, hello there, Brat… fancy meeting you here.” Gillian purred seductive as always, deliberately sliding her knee betwixt Eleanor’s quavering thighs. 

The redcoat tried to struggle, but found herself immobilized against the Lady Maverick’s body. Where Eleanor was sinewy and girlishly feminine—body built for stealth and speed—Gillian’s body was fuller, curvaceous, and finely tuned like a weapon; ultimately meaning that her greater weight proved to be the redcoat’s downfall. Eleanor squirmed, trying to sneak a hand between the virtually nonexistent distance in-between their hips. All she needed was to retrieve her blade; then she could put an end to this insufferable bitch. 

Gillian noticed that questing hand. With a roll of her eyes, she captured Eleanor’s sword by the high-polished brass hilt before the redcoat had the opportunity to even brush her fingers against it. “And here I thought you were just happy to see me.” The seductress joked, freeing the blade from its scabbard. Admiring how the blade glimmered as it caught what little light shone in the alleyway, the ginger smirked at her smaller counterpart before dragging her tongue languidly along the flat-side of the sword.

Eleanor burned with anger as she watched Gillian despoil her blade. “Just couldn’t wait to have something in your mouth, huh, whore?” She spat, hands balling into fists as she waited for an opportune moment to strike.

Gillian’s green eyes glimmered with mischief, gaze never leaving the redcoat’s as she flicked her tongue carefully along the razor’s edge. “I don’t suppose that someone’s jealous?” She teased.

“Jealous— _of some whore_?” Eleanor grunted, her voice heavy with disdain as she pulled her flintlock from her holster and trained it at Gillian’s face. “Preposterous…” She finished, right before pulling the trigger. 

**_CLICK…!_ **

“Oh, having performance anxiety are we? I get it, love… happens to the best of us.” Gillian joked, clicking her tongue tauntingly. 

Eleanor’s eyes flew wide open, not able to wrap her mind around how her pistol could have possibly backfired in her time of need. Pulling the trigger twice more, the redcoat felt panic creep up her spine. Realization made her stomach drop as Eleanor discovered that her firearm had not jammed, but instead was completely without ammunition. It had been sabotaged. But, by whom?! 

Gillian laughed, discarding the redcoat’s blade in favor of blocking the butt of Eleanor’s pistol when the younger tried flinging at her face repeatedly. Disarming the redcoat with ease, Gillian caught her by her frail wrists and forced them up against the wall. Triumphant, the seductress breathed hotly against the redcoat’s face, their noses brushing as she leant in close. “Now, now… that wasn’t very nice…” Their lips practically brushed with each word the ginger spoke.

Eleanor felt chills race up her spine again. This time, she wasn’t sure if they were caused from fear, anger, or… _something else._ Struggling against Gillian and shuddering as she felt raw heat begin to pool in her lower abdomen, the redcoat growled: “Let go of me at once! I’m not in the mood for your games, whore!” 

Gillian did let go, but she did not do so out of compliance to Eleanor’s wishes—instead, she went on to grip the slighter woman’s neck in her gloved-grip. Squeezing just hard enough to constrict the brunette’s airways—but not nearly hard enough to mar that beautiful pale neck of hers’—the seductress glared. Her emerald-green eyes filled with a dark promise, her long eyelashes casting an ominous shadow over them. “There you go, using that word again. _Whore…_ ” The ginger’s grip tightened to punctuate her words. Eleanor gasped fruitlessly, nails scratching against Gillian’s wrists as she tried to make her let go. “That’s not very ladylike language, I presume. Furthermore, you are truly one to talk about whores. Your daddy doesn’t know, does he? That you let all his men fuck you? His precious little brat—fucked raw until her tight little cunt is stretched wide; until she’s beyond wet and begging for it. Like the whores she speaks so fondly of.” 

Eleanor turned beet-red, and it wasn’t solely because of the fact that she was being suffocated. “F-fuck you…” She wheezed, trying to swipe Gillian’s legs out from under her but finding the task to be impossible, what with the ginger’s leg between her own. As she struggled, the redcoat felt the seductress’ thigh press up against her crotch; the delicious warmth of the ginger’s bare skin seeping through Eleanor’s skintight leggings.

Feeling herself grow hotter and hotter with each passing moment, Eleanor felt furious. Growling, she reached out to claw Gillian’s face; a nice, deep scrape would certainly take that vain whore down a peg. Eleanor’s nails met the seductress’ face once, leaving four red trails down her cheek, before Gillian swiftly halted her actions by punching her hard in the stomach.

They parted for the moment. Eleanor sank to the ground, panting and wheezing as she tried to catch her breath. Gillian stood over her crippled form, teeth worrying the edge of her gloves and she pulled them off roughly. The redcoat was barely on her feet before the Lady Maverick kicked her savagely in the back of the knee and forced her back onto the ground. “Y’know, they told me once that you didn’t play fair. No worries, however, as neither do I.” 

Eleanor’s tights were roughly dragged down her hips, Gillian’s nails scraped hard against the younger woman’s skin as Gillian tugged the coarse fabric harshly. Eleanor tried to wriggle this way and that, but nothing succeeded in stopping Gillian from exposing the redcoat’s lower-half to her lustful, prying eyes.

The brunette shrieked at the cold air attacking her overheated skin. She struggled all the harder against the knee that had been dug into her lower back to keep her from rolling over. “ _You whore—you cunt—you…!_ ” Eleanor screamed obscenities at the seductress until her throat was hoarse. And even afterward, she continued to shout until her voice was all but gone. 

Gillian didn’t mind, not as she admired the pale buttocks revealed to her. Smooth, perky, and petite; Eleanor’s leggings really hadn’t left anything to the imagination. Smirking, the Lady Maverick squeezed one of the cheeks and marveled at the feeling of it under palm. Eleanor tried not to moan as Gillian kneaded her cheek with skilled hands. Ultimately the redcoat found herself at a loss, her resolve crumbling as the ginger snuck a hand up her coat and began trailing her skilled fingers down Eleanor’s back. Gillian’s fingers caressed Eleanor’s taut spine, following the ridges as though trying to commit them to memory. The seductress laughed breathlessly as the redcoat trembled beneath her hands. “You like that?”

The redcoat pushed her forehead against the cobblestone road beneath her, hat long gone and hair disheveled. She prayed to whatever deity would listen to put a stop to this—this _abominable_ act.

“You don’t have to talk, you know… I can read your body like a book.” Gillian informed, taking her knee off Eleanor’s back as she moved to straddle the younger’s thighs. “Would you like to know what its saying? _Of course, you do._ It’s begging for my tongue.” She laughed aloud when the redcoat adamantly denied whatever treacherous words her body silently spoke. “Oh, _yes_ … it is. It’s pleading for it, here…” She squeezed Eleanor’s arse. “And here...” She pressed her thumb into the brunette’s tailbone. “And most importantly, it’s absolutely begging for it here—” Her forefinger located and began to stroke Eleanor’s clit firmly—no teasing, no nonsense; just expertise that made the redcoat’s curl in her boots. 

It didn’t take long for the brunette’s climax to come upon her, the rush of the impending wave making her bite the inside of her cheek. Just as her body tensed, going through the motions as she clenched her eyes shut and tried to block out the notion that it was this _whore_ who had brought her over the edge—the seductress’ touch was gone. Eleanor groaned helplessly, her voice a fragile whine as she arched her hips in search of that skilled finger.

“Nah-uh. Not yet.” Gillian cooed, sounding distant somehow. Eleanor promptly rolled over, thinking the ginger had fled—only to be surprised when the Lady Maverick gripped her by the backs of her thighs and splayed her legs wide open. The redcoat felt deliciously exposed as Gillian began kissing and suckling the insides of her thighs. Gillian’s hands moved confidently across Eleanor’s legs, making the redcoat shiver as Gillian gripped the brunette by her wriggling hips. The older woman’s hold was firm, constricting Eleanor’s movements easily enough. 

Eleanor’s mouth fell opened in a silent plea when Gillian’s tongue reached the sparse patch of dark brown hair at apex of her thighs, licking and lapping seductively. Eleanor approached her climax once again when the Lady Maverick had finally had enough with teasing and pushed her tongue hot against the redcoat’s clit. The bumpy surface of the seductress’ tongue against her sensitive flesh, tasting her with skillful swipes, had Eleanor’s legs twitching and tensing against the ginger’s shoulders. The redcoat moaned, hands threading themselves in Gillian’s hair as she inadvertently found herself obeying the older woman’s command not to come just yet. 

“P-please…” She breathed, body quivering all over as Gillian’s fingers crept inside of her, slicken from saliva and Eleanor’s own arousal. Feeling the seductress’ fingers and tongue working her over in accord, the brunette threw her head back, the heat building within her grew too great to stamp out—too great to ignore. “Oh, please!” She exclaimed, one more time, body so taut that she felt on the verge of snapping in half.

Gillian smirked, scissoring her sheathed fingers deep within Eleanor’s body with all the more ardor; driving the brunette absolutely mad as she kept her hips from moving with the practiced rhythm of her strokes with just one hand. Listening to Eleanor’s rasping pleas and the lascivious sounds of her slippery fingers pleasuring the younger woman, the ginger finally relented. “Come. You may come, Love.” She purred, pressing a toe-curling kiss to the redcoat’s thigh. 

Eleanor came. Shouting loudly as she did so until what little was left of her voice was gone.

Afterwards, Gillian wiped her mouth and pulled her gloves back on. “That was fun, darling, but I have to run.” She announced, leaning down and planting a searing kiss against the redcoat’s lips to keep the brunette breathless. “ _Until next time,_ ” With that, the ginger was gone.

Trying to catch her breath, Eleanor pulled her pants back on and tried to find her footing. When the haze in her mind slowly subsided, the brunette remembered why she was in the alleyway in the first place. Straightening her clothes out the best she could, Eleanor retrieved her hat and weaponry before staggering exiting the passageway with less coordination than she would have liked. If the Silent Shadow were to happen upon her in that instant, the redcoat would be hopeless to fight him off. 

However, as her body ached pleasantly—nerves still singing from the aftermath of Gillian’s intimate ministrations—the redcoat couldn’t find herself to care about anything other than getting the seductress back.


End file.
